Page 95 of Rune

We could play the waiting game. Eventually, they’d come this way.

Just then, with absolutely no regard for the planhemade, Trig erupted from somewhere in the middle of the garden where he must have painstakingly slithered out, holding his blade outright to catch the mortal by surprise. From the yelp, it was a girl.

At the action, Tova and I moved in unison, peeling away from the confinements of the wall to advance. The quiet of the night shattered, splintering into spirals of stabs and shards of chaos. Trig tumbled with the girl, her scream piercing the night. Tova sprinted straight through the garden while I clung to the shadows, still holding out foolish hope that the gods wouldn’t put together a simple head count. That hope was growing fainter by the minute.

It was Trig’s scream that finally drew me from my caution. It came laced in pain, thundering through the air. He lay on his back, clutching something in his gut.

Tova hurled herself over him and clawed at the girl, taking them both to the ground.

There was nothing masterful about this type of fighting. It wasn’t a battle field that we’d been trained for, but desperate wrestling with meager blades and a belly of fire.

I clutched a blade, but until I was closer, I couldn’t throw and guarantee it wouldn’t strike Tova. The two of them were a flurry of action, rolling together and throwing punches before Tova reached for her blade, straddling the other girl beneath her thighs.

The girl bared her teeth, and bit.

Tova hollered, but kept hold of her knife. She jabbed once, a clean hit to the chest, but it wasn’t enough pressure. The girl convulsed, throwing Tova from her perch and thrusting her own weight overtop. She drew the blade from her body. Tova grabbed for it, but the girl sliced at her hands, meeting skin. Tova cried again.

As I passed Trig, I made sure he was still alive. He breathed steadily, easing a knife from his belly. We would need to wrap that soon.

I threw myself at the girl, yanking her off Tova. Her eyes widened at a third person in the fight, and she swung blindly at me. I clawed for her fingers, avoiding her snapping teeth as we wrestled.

Over her shoulder, I watched Trig ease to his elbows and fully remove the blade from his body. He wasted no time throwing it at the girl, and it struck her back.

She arched with a hollow scream, and Tova took the opportunity to steal back her blade and finish the deed. I shoved her weight from me and stood.

Once more, silence fell.

When her breaths had stilled, I closed her eyes. “Do we know her name?” I asked.

Tova bent in pain, speaking through shallow breath. “Poruun. She had two brothers and claimed hermóðirbaked the finest zucchini bread in all the clans.”

I committed the name to memory. Another who would be properly honored when we returned to Danmark. I tossed a handful of dirt on her, though it was a poor excuse for a burial. It sunk into the crevices by her eyes, and onto the corners of her lips, and the last of life’s warmth still clung to her cheeks.

“You shouldn’t have run without us,” Tova said, offering a hand to Trig. “Maybe then you wouldn’t have holes in you.” From the corner of my eye, they stood, but I kept my focus on the girl. Something about her unsettled me.

“I’ll wrap it and survive,” Trig said. It took him considerable effort to pry his shirt from his body to wrap his wound.

Tova offered her arm. “Two more to go.”

Then it struck me, and it struck me hard. I recognized this girl from earlier today.

She had an alliance.

I whirled around just as the second appeared, a boy with a bow, and his arrow already nocked. It let loose at the same time as my shout, and hurtled into my shoulder.

He shouted as he charged, and while there were three of us, we were all injured. He appeared in pristine condition, ravaged by the death of his partner.

Tova drew her blades and threw them, ducking as another arrow was shot. I fumbled for my knife, trying to ignore the pounding in my head and the feeling of blood from my shoulder. If it’d been lower, I’d be dead. As it was, searing pain spread through me, spiraling down my arm as I gritted my teeth together to keep calm.

Tova ran near enough, he was forced to drop his bow and reach for a blade. He’d found a longer one than any we had, which gave him another advantage, but Tova drove forward ruthlessly. The clang of steel bit the air. She clutched a dagger in both hands, favoring the leg that hadn’t been bitten, and fearless in the face of danger.

Meanwhile, I struggled to surge forward as my vision swarmed.

Trig handled himself better than me. One hand pressed against his stomach where his wound was wrapped, blood still seeping through the cloth. The other fumbled for a blade from his belt. From my count, it was his last one.

I had three, but I was worthless if I didn’t move.

My eyes shut tight as I forced myself forward. Tova fended off each blow, but he wasn’t slowing. He cut underneath, and it narrowly missed her chin. His dark eyes glared at us. “You shouldn’t be here,” he growled. “You weren’t one of the twenty chosen.”

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